


One Ducat Bed

by Theta8



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Insomnia, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, jaskier is a desperate slut, not reciprocated, one bed, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theta8/pseuds/Theta8
Summary: They may not be in a relation ship, but Jaskier is still desperately attracted to Geralt, and would do anything for him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

“Jaskier.”   
In response, he groaned in his sleep.   
“Jaskier,” he said more forcefully.   
The bard stretched and fell back to sleep. Geralt threw a pillow at him, and he woke with a start.  
“No! Back, beast!” he yelped, and jolted up to fend off whatever had woken him.   
“It’s just me Jaskier,” Geralt grumbled from the other side of the “One ducat a night” bed.   
“Then what did you wake me for?” Jaskier yawned, rolling over towards Geralt.   
“You were snoring, and I can’t sleep.” he growled, taking back his lumpy pillow.   
“Again? Is it because of the mutagens?” the bard asked gently , sitting up to look for signs of illness. Geralt made a harumph sound.   
“I’ll take that as a no, then. Are you cold? No, you don’t feel the cold.” he tried unsuccessfully to guess the problem, feeling sorry for the sleepless witcher. “It’s her again, isn’t it?” he said in a soft and somber tone.   
“Which one?” Geralt sighed. Exasperated, he fell over to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling.   
Jaskier leaned on his elbow, looking over him, searching for answers. What a lovely form, in a dark shirt that bore his forearms and trousers that hugged his hips and thighs. Jaskier moved a little closer, letting his sleep-warm body brush softly against the cold witcher.   
“I could help you forget, for a moment, and perhaps sleep. Don’t lie, you need it.” His big eyes were sad and shining with sympathy. Geralt could barely keep his open, lazily glancing over at Jaskier.   
“What, are you going to sing me to sleep?” He returned his gaze to the ceiling to count nails in the timbers.  
“Oh, I had a much more agreeable idea,” Jaskier said softly, trailing two fingers across Geralt’s chest. His yellow eyes shifted to watch them move in lazy circles up to his collarbone, when he lost sight of them, and Jaskier’s eyes were there to meet his.   
“You don’t even have to get up, I’ll take care of everything,” he whispered in Geralt’s ear, his voice husky with sleep, and something more sensuous. His expression did not change, as he kissed the witcher’s rough jaw tenderly.   
_Odd_ , he thought to himself. He didn’t pull away from the touches, rather, he felt a spreading warmth as a smirk teased his lips and desire rose in his veins. Jaskier’s hand was moving down his chest, across his muscular torso, and Geralt closed his eyes to nod permission, humming with satisfaction. He pet the bard’s hair, giving him an encouraging pat on the cheek, and rubbing his thumb across the lips that had so sweetly touched his cheek. Jaskier kissed it softly in return. He planted his hands on either side of Geralt’s hips, almost in a gesture of worship, and rubbed slow circles across his leather clad hips, moving in a slow path to the tops of his thighs, which twitched with anticipation.  
The witcher thumbed at the bard’s soft bottom lip, and he parted them to lick at his finger. Much more awake now, the warm sensation traveled down his body, and he showed much more interest in Jaskier’s offer.   
“Go on,” he purred, taking a sharp breath in as Jaskier settled between his legs, long fingers stroking back up the lenghth of his tight thighs. Definitely interested.   
Arousal tightened in his stomach, the warm rush of blood where Jaskier’s hands wandered across his trousers. He didn’t look up at the witcher, focusing on undoing dark laces from dark trousers in a dark room. His fingers brushed temptingly over Geralt’s hardness as he worked, and the man growled, lifting his hips to let Jaskier tug his clothes off. He hissed as his cock came free and felt the chill air, but was soon met by the bard’s warm hand. He groaned softly, growing wet with excitement. He began to sit up, but a gentle hand pressed against his chest.   
“Let me,” Jaskier’s sweet voice whispered, and slowly, he lowered his head, and warm, hot lips met the witcher’s eager cock.. He struggled to keep his hips still as sweet lips slid down his length. He moaned, and his breath stuttered when the bard moved his tongue against the underside of him, letting his tip rub the back of his throat before a slow and sensuous retreat. He tangled his hands in the sheets ‘till his knuckles went cold and white, but Jaskier’s hand found his, and begged him to follow. He cupped the bard’s cheek, feeling his own cock in that pretty mouth, as he did something amazing with his tongue, the witcher clutched desperately at his hair. Jaskier let out a delicious moan of pain, or pleasure. In response, he moved his head faster and tightened his lips till the witcher was bucking softly, writhing with the sensations the bard created.  
While his eyes were shut tight, he could feel on his hand, the hot liquid from his throbbing cock dripping down Jaskier’s chin. He stroked encouragingly as the bard swallowed around the head of his cock. Even his toes curled as the sensation built deep in his belly, like a bent branch threatening to snap. His cock twitched in the wet heat of the bard’s mouth, and he grunted a warning before his hips jerked hard and the release of orgasm overtook him. Jaskier didn’t pull back till the last moment, ending up with white splashes on his pale cheeks. He ran his tongue over his swollen lips to erase the evidence; blinked and brushed away the sticky result from his dark lashes.   
Geralt was panting, sunk low into the pillows with the weight of bliss, and Jaskier kindly cleaned him up with the bedclothes, tugging his trousers back into place as best he could before shuffling back to his side of the one-ducat bed without a word. He could still taste the salty residue of the witcher’s pleasure, and whimpered softly, desperate to curl up next to his warm body and bury himself in that delicious, heady scent.   
“Geralt?” he said in the softest whisper. Only deep, slow breaths answered him. The witcher was finally asleep. There would be no gratitude, or tender embraces; no soulful gazing into his eyes, or caring kisses. Sighing sadly, Jaskier turned on his side and retrieved the cleanest blanket among the mess.   
“Thought so,” he mumbled, stretching his limbs and going back to sleep. 


	2. 30 ducat tent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fuck in a tent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot later, porn now.

Geralt found that once he’d had a taste of Jaskier’s sensuality, he grew to crave it. How unusual for a man of so few passions, to desire a touch that had been granted to him by surprise. Even Jaskier, of so many words, did not mention the encounter the morning after. Geralt was left to wonder the miles away. They traveled, he hunted, and the bard sang in every pub, tavern, and town square he could put his hat down. 

In a small milling town on the edge of a greenwood, Jaskier found Geralt looking at a map in the center of town. “You’re scowling more than usual. Any particular reason?” Jaskier asked. Geralt hummed something in response. “Is that a good hmm or a bad hmm?” he prodded.   
“We have to buy bedrolls,” he finally answered, turning away from the map and heading down the street, not waiting for Jaskier, who jogged up behind him.   
“Bedrolls? Like for camping?” he got a sour look on his face. “I like the outdoors as much as the next man, but only in small doses.” he protested.   
“Stay here then. The next town is three days away, through the greenwood. I need to buy a bedroll,” he repeated. “Probably a tent.” he was already counting his coin. There was more than he remembered, and the look on his face could have passed for a smile.   
“Three days isn’t so bad,” Jaskier decided, if it meant he didn’t have to travel alone. “Camping sounds ... alright. As long as it doesn’t rain.”   
Geralt sometimes suspected the bard was half magic. Things he spoke came into being far too often for his liking. It was spooky, though he would hate for Vesimir to catch him using language like that. So it happened that on the second day of their journey, it did rain, quite awfully. The witcher didn’t even poke his head out of the tent, as Jaskier was doing, to see how bad things were. He just kicked him in the behind (gently) and told him to tie the flap before the wind blew the rain in.  
“It’ll be dry enough in here, now get some sleep.” he mumbled, eyes closed, already flat on his back. It was a big enough tent, with just enough space to crawl between the bedrolls and flop down for the evening. Jaskier tucked himself into the dumpling roll of blankets and curled up, facing Geralt. He wasn’t tired.   
“So,” he began, as if casual conversation were natural to them, “What is the next town? And why is it so far away?”   
“A mining town. It’s closer to the mountains,” Geralt answered without opening his eyes. “Go to sleep.”   
Jaskier huffed and put his head down. He shifted this way and that, trying to get comfortable. He decided he did not like camping after all. The ground was hard and the tent was small. It concentrated the smell of his companion, although, since he hadn’t hunted since leaving town, he smelled far less horrible than he might have. Now he smelled of the leather he wore, and the chamomile oil he rubbed on his bruises. Jaskier actually found it rather pleasant. Now that he was beginning to get warm in his blankets, he considered changing his mind about camping.   
“You know Geralt, this isn’t so horrible after all. It’s rather pleasant. Stimulating to the senses, even.”   
Geralt grunted. He found the rain numbing. It made it easier to sleep, if only- “Jaskier,” he grunted. “You’re humming again.”   
“Oh, was I?” he asked rather bashfully. “Guess I was thinking of a song. Sorry. I’ll shut up.”   
Geralt sighed. “You can’t sleep?” he guessed.   
“Not tired,” he admitted.   
Geralt grunted softly. “Hmm. I could think of a few ways to get you to sleep.” Jaskier rolled over, and could see the smirk on his face that he heard in his tone. He propped himself up on one arm to look at Geralt, gazing into his yellow eyes. The smirk didn’t fade, and those predatory eyes met his own.   
“Worked well enough last time, if you’re still interested.” He shuffled out of his blankets and propped himself up on his elbows, showing off strong forearms in the low light of the moon.   
“Last time?” Jaskier asked, his mind growing blank as his heart sped up.   
“What? You don’t remember? Do you suck cock in your sleep then?” he rolled his eyes and let himself fall back down onto the pillow and closed his eyes. “Shame,” he said as he listened to Jaskier roll over in his blankets. “It was enjoyable.”   
He barely got a moment to relax, when he heard blankets flung aside and a weight settle around his hips. There was Jaskier, sitting on him, looking a mix of hungry, seductive, and surprised at himself. “Did you really mean that? You enjoyed that night?”   
Geralt had to laugh, it was dry and breathy. “Aye, I wouldn't pass it up again.” He reached up to wrap his strong fingers around Jaskier’s neck, and pulled him in for a kiss, which the bard eagerly returned. He parted his lips to the witcher and tasted the rough lips that met his. Geralt bit down gently on his soft lower lip and sucked till he felt tingling blood under the surface. It got Jaskier to moan, and the sensation stirred his desire even deeper. Jaskier used his tongue so sensually, and began to grind his hips against Geralt’s leather trousers. He pulled him into a deeper kiss, tangling his rough fingers in Jaskier’s hair. It made him rut against the witcher, his arousal growing by the heartbeat. Geralt snaked his hand between their hips to tug at buttons and laces. Jaskier pulled away from the kiss to gasp when Geralt’s fingers brushed his hardness. The way his back arched, exposing his throat sent shivers across his whole body.   
“Let me,” Jaskier panted. He moved off of Geralt to shed his trousers and under clothes. Geralt made fast work of his own trousers before Jaskier straddled him again.   
“Are you sure you want to?” Geralt breathed, cloudy in the cool air, fast warming with the heat of their bodies.   
“Fuck, of course I’m sure.” he smiled and reached a hand between his legs, stroking his cock briefly, before going further, and doing something with his fingers that made his face screw up and his cock harden and begen to throb. “I want you, Geralt, I want you inside me.” He begged, rocking back on his fingers and whimpering as they hit a particularly sensitive spot. Geralt took his own cock in hand and stroked till he was wet.   
Jaskier removed his fingers from his ass with a moan, his face painted with the most sensuous look as he began to rub against the head of Geralt's cock. He traced the bard's soft lips with his fingers. "Suck," he ordered, and Jaskier did so, licking between them, and stroking his own cock. The erotic display made his cock twitch against the bard's ass, and he didn't wait much longer to probe with his wet fingers. He drew a moan from Jaskier as he stretched him open, and the man eagerly lowered himself onto Geralt's firm cock. The grunt in response was not indifferent, but passionate and desperate as he watched Jaskier lower himself, feeling the tight heat slide down to the hilt, as that soft ass met his hips, and Jaskier moaned loudly.   
"Fuck, I've never been so glad to see in the dark, Jaskier. Your face is- ah!" he cried out as Jaskier began to rock his hips. Even the verbose bard lost his words to moans of pleasure. He let out a breathless word of permission, "Fuck me, Geralt," he panted as he rode his cock, bouncing like a whore. His mouth fell open involuntarily, in a most sensual display.  
Geralt thrust deep into him and Jaskier yelped, falling forward, abandoned to his pleasure as he jerked his hips to keep contact with Geralt's huge, throbbing member.   
The hunter had to work hard to follow the tight heat of his ass in its wild rocking. The smack of flesh had no rhythm as they fucked into each other with passionate abandon, panting and groaning till sweat dripped and their ears rang.   
"Ja- Jas- jaskier," Geralt stuttered and panted with the heat pooling deep in his body. He grasped the man's arms. "I'm- close," he warned with a choked moan, thrusting deep.   
Jaskier began to beg for what he wanted. "Want you to- to come inside -ah!" his hips trembled in short jerks as he did just that, shooting his seed across the witcher's chest and stomach, riding out the sensation.   
"Fuck," Geralt clenched his jaw and pounded into his tightening hole till Jaskier screamed with pain and pleasure. The wave finally crashed upon him and he spilled inside him, crying out with a noise that seized his whole body.   
Geralt was vaguely aware of Jaskier’s lithe body laying across his chest, and a cool sensation as he moved his hips, and the mess of their sex dripped between his legs. He lazily pulled a blanket or two over them. Jaskier curled up for warmth, and as the rush in his ears stopped, Geralt could hear that it was still raining.   
“Are you going to sleep now?” he asked, peering over his chest to see if Jaskier had closed his eyes. He caught a glint of color.   
“Maybe...” he answered hesitantly. “But then I might wake up and this will have all been a strange dream,” he said softly, his warm breath upon Geralt’s chest.   
“It’ll still be real in the morning Jaskier. Go to sleep.” he mumbled as he felt himself drifting off. Jaskier shifted, rolling off him and into the pile of blankets. The witcher could feel him shivering next to him, so extended an arm to his partner, wrapping around his waist. The sensation as he relaxed into the embrace, brought a faint smile to the witcher’s face, and he could hear the bard’s breathing slow into sleep. If he paid any thought to what they had done, or what it might mean, he wouldn’t get to sleep himself, so putting it out of his mind, he curled around Jaskier for warmth and was asleep in moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been quarantined for two weeks, so you get unedited porn with no character development.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the art of @Lehanan_Aida on twitter.


End file.
